Puretaboo
Jane Wilde, Charles Dera Pic(s)
The first button yielded with a silent sigh, parting the fabric to reveal a pale sliver of skin, cool and smooth as marble in the dim light. A single finger traced the newly exposed path, feeling the delicate ridge of a collarbone emerge from the shadows. The second fastening followed, and then a third, each a small victory that deepened the shallow rhythm of her breath. The air itself seemed to thicken, charged with the faint, floral scent of her perfume mingling with the simple warmth of her body. As the material fell away, the soft curves of her shoulders were unveiled, their graceful slope leading the eye downward into a darkness that promised further secrets. His knuckles brushed agat the warm hollow of her throat, feeling the quick, steady pulse that beat there like a captured bird. The lamplight caught the fine sheen of moisture along her sternum, a glistening trail that invited a slow, exploring touch. Every revealed inch was a new landscape, a silent language of taut skin and gentle contours waiting to be read by his attentive hands. In this quiet unveiling, the only sound was the rustle of cloth and the shared, unspoken anticipation that hung heavier than any garment.
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